


Flowers in the Water

by velvetjinx



Category: The Secret Garden (1993)
Genre: Class Differences, F/M, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, POV Outsider, Post-World War I, Romance, Sequel, Werewolves, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21857341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: Dickon comes back from the war a changed man, in more ways than one. But as his romance with Mary blossoms, can the three old friends find a cure?
Relationships: Mary Lennox/Dickon Sowerby
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Flowers in the Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shoemaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoemaster/gifts).

> Title from the song Werewolf by CocoRosie
> 
> Many thanks to velleities for the beta!

Dickon had made it back from the war. 

Colin had doubted many times whether he would ever return from that hell on earth; he was almost certain that Dickon felt the same. Even as a child, so sure that he would die tomorrow, or the next day, he had never been as terrified as he had been when his best friend was over in the trenches of France.

But now Dickon was home—though he was not the same man as he had been before he left. The horrors of war changed one, somewhat. Dickon, who had only returned two days before, had apparently woken Martha and her husband with his screaming every night, after horrific nightmares. 

Mary was a soothing constant in Colin’s life. He had thankfully grown out of the childish notion of marrying her, but they were still excellent friends as well as cousins. Still a little impatient, Mary had nonetheless learned—since she came to stay—how to love, and laugh, and cry. She had both cried and laughed when Colin had come home from his training, only a month before the armistice had been announced, punching him on the arm hard enough to make him yelp. 

When Dickon had returned, however, she was all smiles. Tremulous smiles, masking the maelstrom of emotions inside. Colin knew how Mary felt about Dickon—everyone knew, as they knew how Dickon felt about Mary, except the two themselves. They seemed to have missed the signs, and continued to love from afar. Frankly, it was almost painful to watch. If they didn’t figure it out soon, Colin was going to have to say something. 

His father wasn’t thrilled that Mary had fallen for someone who wasn’t the same social class, of course. He’d had high hopes of her marrying well: a lord, or even a baron. But even from their childhood, Lord Craven had recognized the bond that Mary and Dickon shared, and was willing to give them both his blessing. If they ever confessed their feelings. 

The full moon was approaching, and Colin couldn’t help but smile at the night sky as he looked out. Full moons reminded him of that night long ago when the three of them had worked their magic, with Ben overseeing. Ben had passed only a few years previous from pneumonia, just before the war had broken out, and the wound of loss was still raw for Colin. It seemed impossible that Misselthwaite could function without its head gardener. But perhaps it was just as well that Ben had not lived to see what had become of his precious garden. Much of it had been dug up to plant a victory garden to help the war effort, and the rest was overgrown due to so many of the gardeners going to war themselves. 

Everything was changing. Colin heaved a sigh, and padded silently over to his bed. Hopefully the nightmares would keep away for Dickon that night. 

***

The three were lying out on the lawn the following afternoon—Colin, then Mary in the middle, and Dickon on her other side—when Dickon broke the silence. 

“I need to tell thee summat,” he said in a rush. “But please don’t be afraid of me, or tell anyone else.”

“Of course we won’t,” Mary said before Colin could comment, her tone scolding. “How could you even ask that?”

“Sorry.” Dickon was silent for a moment. “Do thee remember those stories we used to read from Lord Craven’s library—the ones about shapeshifters?”

“I remember,” Colin said. Mary nodded beside him. 

“While I were in France at the front, some of our regiment were sent to raid a German camp. It were a trap. We crept in at night, under a full moon, but they let loose these wild dogs. They attacked us, and everyone but me was killed. I were bitten and left for dead. I managed to crawl out and get back to the rest of the regiment. When I told the doctors what had happened, they knew straight away what the dogs had been.” Dickon took a deep breath. “They’re called werewolves. Human by day, but on the three nights of the full moon, unstoppable wolves.” 

“Unstoppable how?” Colin asked quietly. 

“Werewolves can only be killed with pure silver knives and bullets,” Dickon replied. “But the worst bit is…” Dickon’s voice dropped to a whisper, but Colin had an idea of what he was going to say. “The worst bit is, becoming a werewolf means getting bit—and surviving.”

Mary leaned up in her elbow and stared down at Dickon’s miserable face. “Do you mean to tell us that you’re one of these… werewolves?”

“Aye. The regiment would use me as a weapon after that, every full moon. Tha might have heard them talk about how much ground we gained at the front in the last few months. That was mostly because they would send me across to the German trenches to slaughter the soldiers there during the nights of the full moon.” He shook his head. “I can remember most of what happened too. It’s a strange feeling—like it’s thissen there but tha can’t quite control what’s happening. I’ve got a bit more of a handle on it now, though I still can’t trust myself around people. That’s why I’m telling thee both. I need thee to do summat for us.”

“Of course,” Mary said, at the same time as Colin’s, “Anything, Dickon.”

“Ta.” He sighed. “I need thee to lock us up in that cage in the old mausoleum on the grounds. I have to be locked up over the full moon, otherwise I can’t bear to think about what I could do. Even if all I find is sheep, the farmers won’t be happy if something is eating them, and then I might get caught.”

Colin and Mary exchanged a glance, then Mary nodded. “Of course we will, Dickon. We’ll do whatever we have to, to keep you safe.”

“Of course we will,” Colin added. 

Dickon beamed at them. “Ta. I knew I could count on thee.”

No more was said about it as they lay down again on the grass. But Colin’s thoughts were full of what Dickon had said. To have to deal with the usual aftermath of having been away at war was one thing, but to have this to cope with as well? It seemed horribly unfair. 

That night, the night before the first of the full moon, there was a knock on Colin’s chamber door just as he was about to go to bed. He opened the door to see Mary standing there in her dressing gown. 

Colin stepped aside to let her in, closing the door carefully behind him, then climbed under the covers. Mary sat on the end of the bed with her legs tucked under her. They had never quite got out of the habit of sneaking into each other’s rooms at night to talk secrets. They knew that if Colin’s father found out, they’d get an awful telling off—it was unseemly now they were grown ups!—but neither of them could quite bring themselves to stop. 

“What on earth are we going to do about Dickon?” Mary asked quietly. 

Colin shrugged. “What he asked, I suppose.”

“No, Colin.” Mary rolled her eyes. “I mean, in the long run. Should we try and find a cure?”

“We can try,” Colin agreed. “Though I don’t know how much luck we’ll have in father’s library.”

“No, I suppose not.” Mary sighed. “I’m sure we’d have better luck if we lived in London. They’ve got enormous libraries. They’d have something about werewolves in them—I’d bet on it.”

“You’re probably right. Maybe we could convince father to take us on a trip down to London between full moons?” he mused. 

“That might be a good idea. I hate the thought of Dickon being locked in that cold mausoleum three nights out of every month.” She shuddered a little. Colin considered saying something about her feelings for Dickon, but at the last moment he held his tongue. It didn’t feel like the right time. 

Instead, he yawned widely, and Mary giggled. 

“Sorry. I’m just ever so tired,” Colin said. 

“Still not sleeping well?”

Colin shook his head. “Not very.”

“I’ll leave you to it. Hopefully you’ll get some good sleep tonight.” Mary leaned over and kissed his cheek, before sliding off the bed into the floor and tiptoeing to the door. “Goodnight, Colin.”

“Goodnight, Mary.” 

As the door closed behind her, Colin stretched, extinguishing the lamp and snuggling down under the duvet. Sleep came quickly, but was fraught with dreams that he had been sent to the front, and more than once he woke in a cold sweat. 

***

The next night, the trio sneaked to the mausoleum half an hour before sundown. The cage that Dickon had spoken of was a gated section at the side, with urns on high shelves and a large tomb in the middle. There was plenty of room for a human to walk around the tomb, and Colin couldn’t help but wonder how big Dickon would be in wolf form—if he’d fit. 

They managed to lock and bolt Dickon inside, and Dickon looked at them, blushing. “Tha has to leave!”

“Why?” Mary asked, confused. 

“Because,” Dickon replied, blush deepening, “I have to tek all my clothes off or they rip to shreds.”

Mary’s eyes widened, as Colin stifled an inappropriate giggle. “Oh,” Mary replied faintly. 

“See you tomorrow morning!” Colin said, and took Mary’s arm, leading her out the mausoleum. They closed the large doors behind them, and bolted those too. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay? Will he be warm enough?” Mary whispered. Colin gave her a one-armed hug. 

“He’ll be fine. He knows what he’s doing,” he replied reassuringly. All he could do was hope that was true. 

***

Colin woke suddenly in the dark. He could hear a distant howling, and shuddered. The sound was chilling, and yet must be his dear friend Dickon. 

Suddenly concerned that the howling was due to some distress, Colin leapt out of bed and pulled on his trousers and a jumper. Slipping on a pair of shoes, he slipped out his door, through the corridor, down the staircase, and out the back door. 

The wind was howling, but it fortunately wasn’t raining. Colin shivered, then traipsed through the garden to the stone mausoleum. 

He was about halfway there when the howling ceased. 

Worry mounting, Colin dashed the rest of the way. 

The door was half open. 

He peered in cautiously, and stifled a gasp. Mary was kneeling in front of the gated area, coat over her dressing gown over her nightgown. Behind the gate was an enormous brown wolf, baring its teeth as it sat back on its haunches, watching Mary. 

Mary’s posture was relaxed. Colin could see that she was smiling softly. 

“Hello, Dickon,” she said quietly, and put her hand flat against the bars of the gate. 

Colin wanted to call out to her not to be so stupid, but the words were stuck in his throat. He couldn’t make a sound; couldn’t even move. 

As he watched, rooted to the ground, the wolf stood on all fours and stalked over to where Mary knelt. It lifted its head to Mary’s hand…

...and sniffed, then licked her hand delicately. 

The wolf’s mouth dropped open in what appeared to be a lopsided smile, and it went to lie down beside the tomb. It suddenly occurred to Colin that he was intruding on an oddly private moment, and he withdrew as quickly and quietly as he could. 

The rest of the night was dreamless; or, if he did have dreams, Colin did not remember them. 

***

Mary yawned over her breakfast the following morning. Colin raised an eyebrow at her, pretending not to know the cause. She shook her head, shooting a brief warning look at Colin’s father. They had released a thankfully fully human and fully dressed Dickon earlier that morning, and there had been no questions yet. Colin wondered if they’d actually managed to get away with it. 

After breakfast, Mary disappeared. Colin searched high and low, eventually spotting her and Dickon by the swing in his mother’s garden. Dickon was holding Mary's hand, and talking earnestly and quickly in low tones. A blush stained Mary's cheeks, and Colin suddenly realised that Dickon was at last telling Mary how he felt. Colin was only there for a moment, but it felt like an eternity before he finally managed to make his legs move, and he escaped the garden. He hoped they hadn't seen him. He knew that his presence would have been unwelcome in that moment. His head reeling, he made his way back to the house, to his father's library, and he began the search for books that might assist in their quest to cure Dickon. 

It was an hour before Mary returned to the house. Dickon was not with her, but she had a glow about her, and although she tried to hide it, she could not help her smile.

"Why are you so cheerful?" Colin asked her.

"No reason," Mary replied disingenuously.

“Hmm,” Colin hummed, eyebrow raised, but didn’t press the issue.

“Where is your father?” Mary asked after a few moments. 

Colin shrugged. “In his study, I expect. Why?”

Mary blushed. “Dickon has asked me to marry him,” she said, her tone defiant, as though she expected Colin to disapprove. 

Instead, Colin grinned. “It’s about time he said something,” he said with a laugh. “And you’ve accepted, of course.”

“Yes.” Mary paused. “Do you think your father will be terribly angry?”

“Not even a little.” He smirked. “Much like me, I’m sure he’ll tell you it’s about time.”

Mary shoved Colin’s shoulder, laughing, and got up—presumably to go to see Lord Craven. 

She had only been gone ten minutes when there was a knock at the library window. There stood Dickon, gesturing wildly to Colin. Colin nodded and set aside the book he was looking through, running outside. 

“Did Mary tell thee?” Dickon asked, beaming. 

“She did.” Colin held out his hand, and Dickon shook it enthusiastically. “Congratulations. You’ll live here at the house, of course.”

Dickon shook his head. “No. Can you imagine Martha’s face if she had to serve her little brother a meal? I don’t know where we’ll live. Maybe I’ll get a job at another house.”

Colin’s face fell. “Leave Misselthwaite?”

“Aye. I can’t ask Mary to live where her husband is working for her family in the big house where she used to live.”

“Nonsense,” Colin scoffed. “As if Mary would care about that.”

“Mebbe so, but I still don’t think it’d be nice for her.”

“Hmm.” Colin was doubtful that Mary would be bothered by this. She had changed enough since she had come to Misselthwaite that the distinctions of class meant nothing to her. Most of that, of course, had to do with her love for Dickon, but the kindness of Martha and the rest of the staff to her as a child had helped too. 

Well, except perhaps Mrs Medlock. But even that old lady had mellowed since Colin had learned to walk, and had warmed up to Mary after that. It had taken some time, and they would certainly never be bosom friends, but they had a good—if undemonstrative—relationship. Mrs Medlock was rather elderly now, but still ruled the house with an iron fist. 

“Has she gone to her uncle?” Dickon asked suddenly. 

Colin nodded. “She has.” As Dickon looked worried, he laughed. “Don’t be concerned. I know that father wants nothing but happiness for Mary, and he knows that means her marrying you.”

“I hope so. I love her, and I can’t imagine my life without her,” Dickon said quietly. “She came to see me last night, you know.”

“Did she?” Colin replied, pretending to be surprised. 

“She put her hand up to the bars, and the wolf in me didn’t even want to attack. I don’t know whether it was because I can control the wolf better than before, but I didn’t attack her. And she wasn't afraid of me, so I knew I maun say summat today.”

Colin smiled, as he heard Mary approach behind him. He turned, but Mary only had eyes for Dickon, her smile wider than Colin had ever seen it. Dickon held out his hands, and Mary took them shyly, a blush staining her cheeks. 

“My uncle has given his blessing,” she said, the words almost bursting out of her in her joy. “He wants to see you in the study.”

Dickon nodded and, after squeezing Mary’s hands, left them to go into the house. 

“Well?” Colin said expectantly. 

“He said that he was happy for me,” Mary replied, eyes shining. “He said that he’d hoped for me to make a good marriage until he saw how much I loved Dickon, and that if that was what made me happy, then he was happy.” 

“I’m so glad.”

Mary smiled, then threw herself at Colin, wrapping him in a hug. “Thank you.”

***

The rain started just after lunch. Colin was reading in the library while Mary and Dickon sat in a corner, speaking quietly. Colin was trying desperately not to listen, but he couldn’t help it in the echoey room. 

“There’s a job as head groom at Harewood House,” Dickon said. “I was thinking I maun take it. It comes with a house, and we’d live comfortable there.”

“But why should we leave Misselthwaite?” Mary asked, surprised. 

“W-well,” Dickon replied, stuttering. “I didn’t think tha would want to live here, with me being staff.”

“Oh for goodness sake,” Mary said impatiently. “Do you think that would bother me? I’d be more bothered about moving away from Misselthwaite and my family.”

“Oh.” Dickon paused. “Lord Craven told me he’d give us the cottage near the secret garden if we decided to stay. Would tha really be alright living there and not in the big house?”

“Dickon,” Mary said, tone brooking no arguments, “I’d much rather live in a cottage on the grounds of Misselthwaite with you, than in this grand house without you. Now, let’s hear no more of this nonsense about Harewood and moving away.”

Colin glanced up at them surreptitiously. Dickon was clasping Mary’s hand, squeezing gently. Looking back down at his book, Colin hid a smile. He’d known Mary wouldn’t stand for that nonsense. 

***

Although there was no formal announcement to the staff about Mary and Dickon’s betrothal, because of the understairs staff’s ability to ferret out all news, it was soon common knowledge. Martha, of course, was one of the first to know, but very quickly the whole household was abuzz. 

Colin was once again in the library, alone this time. Mary had gone to bed with a headache, and Dickon was seeing to his duties as head groom. The high-backed chair was facing the window, so he was rather hidden from view. As he pored over the text he was reading, the door opened. Colin heard the familiar footsteps of Mrs Medlock. 

“The curtains in here need to be taken down and washed tomorrow,” Medlock was saying. “And make sure that you have the curtain rails dusted too, while the curtains are down.”

“Yes, Mrs Medlock,” the young maid, Betty, said. “Will we be making a cake for Miss Mary and Dickon’s betrothal too?”

“We shall.”

“It’s so exciting, isn’t it?” Betty gushed. “Like a story book!”

“You should be devoting your time to more appropriate pursuits than novel reading,” Medlock scolded her. “And as for the match… Well, I can’t say I know what Miss Mary is thinking. The distinction of class should be preserved or society will all go to seed, that’s what. But on her own head be it. I don’t know how she’ll like living in a cottage and doing for herself instead of being waited on hand and foot as she has been—and this is the girl who couldn’t even dress herself when she arrived here!”

“She couldn’t dress herself?” Betty asked, sounding almost gleeful in her surprise. 

“Well, she had lived in India, you see, and had always had a servant dress her in the mornings. Shocking spoiling, if you ask me, but she soon got over that living here.”

Colin frowned, wondering if he should make himself known to them before they went any further, but at that moment Medlock sighed. 

“But then, that was a long time ago, and she’s turned out well. Now, we can’t just stand here gossiping all day. Make sure you do as I asked tomorrow, and I’ve got some other things for you to do if you have time.”

As they left, Colin let out a long breath. So that was what the servants were thinking? Colin wasn’t surprised, not really, but he’d hoped in this modern time—the twentieth century, after all—that they would perhaps be a little more open minded, as Colin and his father had been. 

Then, of course, Medlock was still very Victorian in her way of thinking. Colin frowned. He hoped that this attitude wouldn’t affect Mary and Dickon’s happiness. Best not to tell them what he’d overheard. 

***

The next full moon was getting closer, but Colin and Mary were no nearer to finding a cure. However, Lord Craven had agreed to take them down to London by train after the full moon, and Colin had told him that they wished to visit the British Library on their trip. 

They locked Dickon in the mausoleum the three nights of the full moon. As it was late spring, the days were getting longer and the nights shorter, which made things a little easier. Colin dreaded what would happen come winter, if they hadn’t found a cure by then. He suspected that Mary went out each night to sit with Dickon in the mausoleum for a few hours, but she never said and he didn’t like to ask. Still, she was more tired the nights after the full moon, going for naps during the day. 

Two days after the last night of the full moon, Colin, his father, and Mary were driven to the railway station in his father’s new motor car. They were going for three days, with plans to spend one day in the library, but also take in an opera. Mary had received a new dress from her uncle, and smiled wryly at Colin when they were alone later. 

“I suppose this will be one of my last grand dresses,” she said, laughing. “I shall have to learn to make my own. Hopefully Martha will help and teach me.”

But now they were off, Colin and Mary sitting on one side of the compartment, Lord Craven on the other. Colin’s father fell asleep quickly, but Colin and Mary stayed awake, talking quietly. They kept away from the subject of Dickon’s affliction, instead discussing the opera they intended to see—The Marriage of Figaro—and Mary’s wedding plans. She intended to have a small wedding in the village church, with Martha as bridesmaid. Dickon had already asked Colin to be the groomsman, and they had already started work on the cottage which was to be their future home. 

The journey from York took just over four hours. They arrived into London Kings Cross around one in the afternoon. Taking a taxi cab straight to the hotel and after settling into their suite of rooms, they went down to the dining room for luncheon. 

“So why are you both so set on going to the British Library?” Colin’s father asked as they ate. 

Unprepared for the question, Colin nearly choked on his scone. 

Mary swallowed delicately. “Well, you see, uncle…”

“You see, I was thinking of doing some preparatory reading before Oxford,” Colin improvised quickly, “and Mary kindly offered to help me track down the books I need.”

“Ah, I see. Very studious of you, Colin,” his father said approvingly. “I have some business to see to, so I will leave you both there for the day, if you don’t mind?”

“That’s fine, father,” Colin replied, managing a smile. He exchanged a relieved glance with Mary, before going back to his scone. That had been a little close for comfort. 

***

It was nearly time to meet Colin’s father for dinner, and their research had turned up nothing but some vague references to Dickon’s affliction. Many of those texts had been in Latin and Greek; Colin could, of course, read both, but it was no use. There was nothing but the occasional obscure note—usually in the footnotes—and with no real information at all. 

It was a demoralized and downhearted Colin and Mary at dinner that night, which unfortunately his father noticed. 

“What’s wrong with you two? You haven’t argued, have you?”

“No, father,” Colin replied, managing a smile. “It’s just the texts that we found were rather more complicated to understand than I had thought. But it’s alright. Just a little disappointing.”

“Ah. Well, buck up. I’m sure once you’re at Oxford, you'll find it easier.”

“Of course, father.” 

No more was said about it, and the pair rallied their spirits reasonably well—enough that there were no more questions, at least. 

***

The opera was excellent. They also paid a visit to the British Museum, as well as the Tower of London, enjoying the sights of the city. All too soon, it was time for them to make the journey home to Misselthwaite. 

They had been home only half an hour when Martha came to find Colin. “If you please, sir,” she said in a rush, “my brother has been looking for you and M-Mary.” Colin hid his smile at Martha’s correction; Mary was to be her sister-in-law, and no doubt had insisted that Martha drop the ‘Miss’. “A gentleman from the army came to see him yesterday, and I don’t know what they spoke about, but he’s not been himself since.”

Colin’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Thank you, Martha,” he said, before dashing off to find Mary. 

Together, they rushed out to the stables, where Dickon was seeing to the horses. As soon as he saw them, he ran out to them. 

“Come with me,” was all he said as he led them to the secret garden. Inside, far enough from the wall that no one would overhear, it all poured out of Dickon in a rush. 

“A gent from the army came to see me yesterday,” he said, “and he told me summat that…” He took a deep breath. “They’ve been working on a cure for the… my condition. They call it ‘lycanthropy’, and they think they’ve cracked it.”

“Dickon, that’s wonderful news!” Colin said, then noticed Dickon’s pensive look. “Isn’t it?”

Dickon shrugged. “The problem is that it’s only an experiment. They don’t really know if it’ll work properly. And it’s dangerous. I… I might not survive it.”

“Then no,” Mary said immediately. “No, Dickon. I’d rather we lived with this and learned how to cope with it than lose you!”

Dickon gathered Mary in his arms, and Colin suddenly felt as though he shouldn’t be there to witness this moment. He turned his head away, giving a delicate cough,. Dickon and Mary stepped back from each other, looking a little sheepish. 

“No, Mary,” Dickon said quietly. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to do it. No,” he said quickly, seeing that Mary was about to interrupt, “this is something I maun do. I can’t risk staying like this, especially if one day we were to have children. What if they inherited this? We can’t risk it.”

Mary still looked mutinous, but subsided. Colin had the feeling that the fight wasn’t over. 

“When do they want you in for the procedure?” Colin asked. 

“Two days before the full moon,” Dickon said quietly. “They'll come pick me up and tek me down to some secret place. All being well, I’ll be home within the week. Tha needn’t worry, Mary,” he added. “There’s nowt that’ll stop me leading thee to the altar in a few months.”

Mary’s lip trembled, her eyes filling with tears that threatened to spill over, but she nodded. “You’d better be right.”

***

Colin and Mary said farewell to Dickon two days before the next full moon, as scheduled. Colin shook Dickon’s hand, then stood back to wait for Mary to say goodbye. The rest of the household thought that he had been called away to assist with a war report, and Colin and Mary had encouraged this fiction. 

As Dickon was driven away, Mary suddenly turned and ran into the house. Colin didn’t follow her, knowing instinctively that she wanted to be alone. Besides, there was nothing that he could say to comfort her. Things were too uncertain. 

They heard nothing from Dickon for two days. The tension when Colin and Mary were alone together was almost unbearable. Then, on the second day of the full moon, the telephone rang. It was a telegram for Mary. Colin went through to the library, pacing the floor as he waited on the news. 

A few minutes later, Mary burst through the door, eyes shining. 

“It worked!” she said, laughing, once she had closed the door behind her to ensure that they were not overheard. “It worked! He’s feeling a little weak, but the doctors say he should recover well!”

Colin let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and strode forward, wrapping Mary in a hug. “Hopefully he’ll be home soon to tell us all about it,” he said, voice shaking slightly in his relief. 

“I do hope so.”

Colin stepped back, and as their eyes met they both began to giggle. The release of tension was palpable. 

It was three days before Dickon returned; a rather exhausted, yet elated-looking Dickon. They traipsed once again to the secret garden, never growing out of their love for that garden, nor their habit of meeting there. Dickon showed them his bruised and pinpricked arms. 

“I honestly don’t know what they did to me,” he told them with a laugh. “They put me to sleep for all of it. I’ve a scar on my side too—don’t know why. They wouldn’t tell me.”

“When did you wake up?” Colin asked. 

“In the middle of the night, during the first night of the full moon. I was cold, shivering, and lying on the floor of a cage, but I was myself. I couldn’t believe it.”

Colin smiled to himself. Everything seemed to be working out well. 

***

On a beautiful day in the middle of August, Mary and Dickon were wed. Colin and the rest of the household saw them off that evening as they were catching the train to London for a fortnight’s honeymoon. As the car drove out of sight, Colin sighed. Everything seemed to be changing. Mary and Dickon were married and would be taking possession of the cottage when they came back, meaning no more nightly chats between the cousins. Colin himself would be off to Oxford the following month, for his first year of university. They were entering the world of adults now, and while it was sad, it was also exhilarating. 

It was a brand new world, and Colin was ready to face it.


End file.
